


A Very Slashy Christmas

by flitterflutterfly



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Fluff and Crack, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-10
Updated: 2013-02-10
Packaged: 2017-11-28 21:24:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/679039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flitterflutterfly/pseuds/flitterflutterfly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When John and Sherlock are snowed into their flat on Christmas, Sherlock decides to reveal his present to John. Unfortunately for both John and the Santa that had been apparently living in the closet, Sherlock wouldn’t settle for anything less than John’s deepest desire.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Very Slashy Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> This is absolutely ridiculous. Inspired by a request from indraleigh on LJ. She wanted John and Sherlock being stuck together for 24 hours at 221b Baker St, and it was supposed to be humorous. Well... this is just weird so. Enjoy.

John clicked off the news, groaning as he rubbed his temples. “Bloody snowed in,” he growled to himself. “Of course I’m bloody snowed in on Christmas.”

“Why, John,” Sherlock said with a deceptively pleasant tone from his perch on the couch. “With a tone like that one would think you didn’t want my company over this praised Christian holiday.”

“Come on Sherlock,” John gave him a pleading look. “You know we were supposed to meet up with Harry. She even has my present for you already under the tree at her house.”

“You got me a present,” Sherlock looked suddenly confused. Then his face cleared. “Ah, but of course you did, it is common between two people who are amiable to each other. Yes,” he nodded to himself.

“I’m guessing by that you forgot to get me anything,” John said, more amused than anything. He knew his flatmate well enough to not have expected much, but he’d gotten Sherlock a new book anyways.  _An in Depth Research Study on the State of the Mind_ sounded like something right up Sherlock’s alley after all and John couldn’t really resist.

Sherlock’s expression shifted again, but this time it was to something John didn’t immediately recognize. “Oh, but John my present isn’t something you can wrap.”

John’s heart skipped a beat. It had only been a couple of months since John had made that first clumsy move towards romance, too drunk to realize what he was doing until he was pinned under Sherlock and being ravished. Apparently all it had taken for Sherlock to take that next step in their relationship was one sloppy kiss.

Despite the fact that they’d fallen in bed together rather quickly, they had yet to actually talk about anything. And that bothered John a bit more than his manliness liked. Guys weren’t supposed to want to talk about their feelings, but hell he would like to know where he stood with the elusive Sherlock Holmes.

“What are you going to give me, Sherlock?” John asked with a small shake of his head. “Will you finally let me top?”

“Don’t be silly, John.” Sherlock smiled slowly, smoothly. “But alas I am the genius between us am I not?”

Now John was confused. “Whatever you say,” he agreed slowly, trying to see where this was going.

“Don’t you want to know what it is?” Sherlock asked, pouting slightly.

John snorted. “Of course I do.”

Sherlock nodded, seeming pleased with himself. “You see, John, I got you the thing you most want. Or rather, I will, once I learn what it is.”

“What?” John blinked, but before he could question further, Sherlock had stood and opened the closet, revealing a tied up, gagged, mall Santa Claus.

“You’re surprisingly hard to find a present for, John,” Sherlock said conversationally as he dragged the Santa out and set him on the floor in front of the tele. “It’s our first Christmas, you know, so I thought it only appropriate to get you exactly what you want. But alas, you’re hard to read.”

“You kidnapped Santa,” John gaped. “Sherlock! You can’t just kidnap Santa!”

“But John, don’t you see,” Sherlock seemed positively delightful. “He’s going to tell me what you want for Christmas. And then I’ll get it and you’ll be happy and we can move onto the sex part of the evening.”

Yes, Sherlock was definitely a sex fiend, John told himself as he continued to gape. “You kidnapped Santa so you could buy me the perfect present. And you think I’m going to want to have sex with you after that?”

“Isn’t that the normal response when one’s boyfriend does something nice? Reward by sexual pleasures,” Sherlock seemed very sure of himself.

“What?” John exchanged glances with the Santa, who seemed just as confused as he was. “We’re boyfriends now?”

Sherlock looked suddenly hurt. “Yes, we are. We have sex. And you don’t date other people and I don’t date other people. I suppose we could be lovers, but we haven’t exchanged those words that everyone seems to think are so special. And we’re hardly married. So, boyfriends is the only logical conclusion.”

John shook his head from side to side slowly, trying to clear his thoughts. Sometimes, he told himself, it is just better to go along with Sherlock’s craziness and make sure he doesn’t do anything to illegal before the end. “Okay, Sherlock. Now, I think you should let the Santa go home before he gets you arrested for kidnapping. I hardly think Lestrade will like to bail you out for this one.”

Sherlock smiled and clapped his hands together. “Great!” He ripped the duct tape off of the Santa’s mouth. “Now, St. Nick, tell me what John really wants and you can go back to the North Pole. Though how you live there is certainly a mystery, considering there is not actually land on that part of the Arctic.”

The Santa coughed.

John rushed to get him a glass of water. “I’m really sorry about this,” he said as he untied the poor man. “He can be a bit…” he trailed off, hoping the Santa would get his meaning.

He did. “That’s okay,” the old man said with a flippant hand wave. “It happens more often than you might think.”

John blinked. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Santa shrugged. “It’s actually in the guide book they give us when they hire for the mall Santa job. Though usually it’s deranged parents trying to figure out what their screaming kids want, not boyfriends.”

“Yes, well,” John sighed. “Sherlock is brilliant, but he tends to have problems when it comes to normal human nature.”

Santa gave him a sympathetic pat on the back. “Okay then, let me do my magic.”

John stepped back, deliberately not letting himself rest next to Sherlock, though the other man was standing rather close.

Santa closed his eyes and waved his hands in the air. Sherlock watched with wide eyes, much like a child, John thought.

And then Santa opened his eyes and all of the sudden John felt something change in the room. He could have sworn the mall Santa had brown eyes, but now Santa’s eyes were so blue there were practically white.

“Sherlock Holmes,” Santa said in a strangely deeper voice. “You have already given John Watson exactly what he most wanted.”

Sherlock and John exchanged a look of serious confusion. “I have?” Sherlock asked.

“Yes,” Santa nodded gravely. “What Dr. Watson wanted most was a reassurance that you cared for him more than just for sex. Upon labeling yourselves as boyfriends, you have given him what he wanted, and what he needed.”

Sherlock looked contemplative and John blushed. “Come on,” he said exasperatedly. “How could a mall Santa know that?”

Santa winked and stood up from the floor. “How indeed?”

And then he was gone, only the flash of the fireplace giving any hint he’d ever even been there.

John took a couple faltering steps back and fell down into his armchair. “Bloody hell.” Sherlock was gazing at him and John looked up. “Don’t tell me that was actually Santa.”

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. “Like I would ask an old perverted man at the mall what you wanted for Christmas, be real John. Only the real Santa would know something that I could not deduce.”

John blinked three times before he even began formulating an answer. Finally, he sighed and rubbed his temples. “Okay, I think I need more sleep.”

“Did you really not know we were boyfriends?” Sherlock asked suddenly. “You must know I wouldn’t just think of you as a, a,” he paused, “a fuck buddy.”

“Uh,” John said a bit dumbly. Hearing Sherlock say the words ‘fuck buddy’ have fried whatever was left of his brain. “Sherlock, I, well, that is to say…”

Sherlock leaned in, looming over John as he sat. “You mean a lot to me, John.”

And horribly, John felt himself blush again. “You mean a lot to me, too.”

Sherlock bowed his head the remaining way to meet their lips together. Then he pulled away and stepped back.

John looked once at the fireplace and then, determinedly, let it all go. “I guess that means you want your sexual pleasures now, huh?”

Sherlock smirked.

Boyfriends, John thought as he got out of the armchair and popped open the buttons on Sherlock’s pants, engulfing Sherlock’s already enlarged cock in his mouth.

He could definitely live with that.


End file.
